| The Warky League One Report: Doncaster Rovers (h) 12:04 - Sep 15 with 1324 views | Warkystache |
It was a Saturday comparable to Marbella in town. Admittedly, it didn't have the beach or the Estrella del Mar, where Mr and Mrs Tel are currently vacationing at a five-star hotel, but the trip from the station to the Cricketers, sampling the delights of their sticky tables and uncollected plates and enforced queues for bar service, made the sweat prickle on the forehead and under the arms.
Welcome back to the footy. After a bland, England-heavy diet of 5-3 wins over countries who didn't exist twenty years ago and the usual substandard knockings from mid-table League One teams on Sky, we were back to the day job. Hooray. A day of drink and food and an authoritative, comprehensive win over the mighty Donny Rovers, which would have the twenty-odd thousand present drooling and dreaming of games back where we belong, back with the Derbys and Bristol Citys and Readings, that Chambers fist-pump at the end being cheered like he was lobbing one on Paul Hurst's conk. Then home, via the local, to watch the scum get stuffed 10-0 by Citeh live on telly, the laughs continuing and leading to vacuous day-dreams of playing them next season and winning and.........oh.
Speaking of Tel, as I so often do even when he's not here, he called me on Friday evening to wish us joint luck with the footy bet (£896 in the kitty, the much-anticipated Xmas payout should be a blinder this year) and to gloat about the mid-day sun and his sunburn and the hotel, which, apparently "'as the best rest'raunt in the area, blindin' it is, steak'n' salser vardy (which must be Jamie's less vulpine-looking sister) an' fish done in olives an' the brekky buffay 'as pancakes wiv bacon an' eggs which is luvly". Mrs Tel goes shopping and does Pilates and Yoga in the pool with her friend Lynne, who hails from Chertsey and who they've 'palled up wiv, 'er and 'er 'usband Dave, 'e's a site manager for Barratts, supports Chelsea'n'as a season ticket at the Bridge. We've been 'avin' a larf about us s'porting the town, we 'ave".
So he's enjoying the Spanish sun on the Costa. He texted me yesterday evening about the scum win over Man City. He and Dave watched the Chelsea game live in a bar at 3pm. They're going water-skiing today. I thought of reminding him that the Med has a greater recorded number of Great White sharks in it than the US, but then I thought "Nah, don't be petty".
They (obviously) got their flight OK, although Tel fished for me to pick them up as Tony can't make it on Saturday at 4.30pm. I said yes. I wasn't quick enough to get tickets for Gillingham. and, having been there before, wasn't in any great rush to go back. My friend and his son who are Gills supporters won't be attending as the son has a party or something. They're coming to PR on Boxing Day instead.
The week dragged interminably at work, punctuated by training dates and the usual Brexit fears come the 31st October and office gossip of the sort that considers impending doom to be a positive. With no Friday night Tel date, I did the housework instead, saving money and making everywhere look a bit cleaner in the process. My washing machine grumbled at the sudden influx of clothing into its metal bowels but it did the job. I haven't ironed it all yet; I'm saving that for the footy this afternoon.
Yesterday was an early start. I awoke at 6.30am for some reason, clear of eye, bowel and head, humming the last song I heard on the radio alarm before it got binned until Monday (which was 'Make it with you' by Bread in case you're interested). Coffee, bird-feeding and watering, brief sit down at the kitchen table to open yesterday's post and grimace at the junk I get sent. Then wash up, shower, teeth cleanse, deodorant, dress, shoes on, keys, car, paper from Tesco with two-pinter of Cravendale and a fresh loaf of wholemeal, home, make more coffee, toast with marmalade, read the paper, go for a dump, wash up breakfast things, get walking down the station, train to Ipswich. Never varies, always mundane with a thing of beauty tucked in somewhere. Today's was the rippling waters of the Stour, the morning sun glinting as boats rocked gently on their moorings, the wading birds feeding at the shore edge, the last swallows flitting and swooping before their long flight south, the Summer waving a sad farewell before the leaves start falling and the days darken and get colder and people stop wearing shorts that reveal their cheap tattooes and the stubbly hairs on their legs.
I've mentioned the Cricketers already. That's their lot. Suffice to say, I miss the Robert Ransome. They actually had enough staff serving for one. Disillusioned by the Wetherspoons model, we went instead after three cheap pints, to the relative madness of Degeneros, and then, when we tired of waiting half-an-hour for service, to the sedate newness of The Swan, with its places to sit and its decent beer list. I fancied Isaacs, but reasoned the courtyard would be packed at 1.30pm in the hot sun, Town fans in their replica shirts and their shorts, the long walk back through the docks. So we stayed at the Swan, although Isaacs will be one for the future, perhaps when we start getting a few frosts?
Portman Road sparkled in the afternoon sun. They've cleaned it a bit since last season. Throngs of short-wearing fans strode around the SBR clutching kids arms' and looking relaxed. It's great when you have a good start on the pitch. You feel the team could 'do' anyone just by showing up. Sadly, the pre-match optimism evaporated a bit during a tense and turgid first half, where Donny played like anything but the expected mid-table lot I thought they'd prove. They even had the odd chance. We huffed and puffed and Kenlock mustered the usual groans and prescient forbears of doom as he sashayed around the left back slot like a swaggering dan who'd accidently sh*t themselves. The early support and the songs muted, and folk behind me watched Edwards being ineffectual and wondered where Danny Rowe had gone.
We reached half-time in stalemate and people evacuated for drinks and the bog, a look of perplexed frustration on faces. We watched the kids taking penalties and wondered if they'd be the only goals we'd see. Some mentioned we'd got a strong bench and we waited. The frustration continued. I'm sure Norwood and Jackson will have better games. I'm sure Flynn Downes was just having an off-day. I'm sure we'll face lesser challenges in the comig weeks. But this reminded me of last season, worryingly. We looked toothless and yet strangely composed at the back. Credit to Donny, but they'll surely never have a better chance of nicking three points from a (hopefully) top two side as they had yesterday. It was the "top-two side" bit that caused the momentary unease. Perhaps others in this league are better? Perhaps they'll punish our mistakes? Perhaps we haven't played the best teams yet, nay, OUTPLAYED the best teams? This game threw up more questions than answers.
The train home was the usual, a mix of sweating folk and sun-drenched countryside. I went for my pint and watched horrified as the scum went 2-0 up against a toiling Man City. It gave me a bit of hope and perspective for the future. If even the best can be waylaid now and then, surely it's just a learning curve? It'll get better as we progress.
My curry was a takeaway, eaten in the confines of a clean home, with cans of icy cold Wild Wave cider at the elbow, the empty tinfoil trays and the scraps from the poppadom paper bag rustling as they fell down the side of my chair. I had a vindaloo which brought back the prickles from the mid-day sun in town. The keema naan was a triumph of fluffy bread and rich, slightly tangy minced lamb. The samosas were crammed full of meat and veg, spicy and moreish on the tongue. The cauliflower bhaji was soft, spicy, nutty florets of yellow and chilli, the bombay potato which I hadn't ordered but which they'd chucked in anyway was small globes of floury fried potato loveliness. I drank too much and then compounded my Sunday hangover by finishing off the brandy. Still, I've got cold curry leftovers in the fridge and there's a walk with a pub in it beckoning me at lunchtime.
See you next Tuesday. Sorry, didn't mean to call you that. I meant, see you for the MK Dons away. Let's hope for three points on our travels again! |  |
| |  |
| The Warky League One Report: Doncaster Rovers (h) on 13:01 - Sep 15 with 1228 views | BanksterDebtSlave |
Fantastic as ever....and an outside shout that Miss Slave grew up with Lynne! |  |
| |
| The Warky League One Report: Doncaster Rovers (h) on 13:19 - Sep 15 with 1197 views | Warkystache |
| The Warky League One Report: Doncaster Rovers (h) on 13:01 - Sep 15 by BanksterDebtSlave |
Fantastic as ever....and an outside shout that Miss Slave grew up with Lynne! |
Really?
When Tel said Chertsey, I got a mental picture of John Terry for some reason. Apparently, this Dave bloke is a good sort though, and Tel's already talking like they'll be keeping in touch when they all return to these sunny shores.
He never makes friends when he's on holiday. Doesn't trust anything abroad usually. This could be a keeper........ | |
| |
| The Warky League One Report: Doncaster Rovers (h) on 14:18 - Sep 15 with 1121 views | BanksterDebtSlave |
| The Warky League One Report: Doncaster Rovers (h) on 13:19 - Sep 15 by Warkystache |
Really?
When Tel said Chertsey, I got a mental picture of John Terry for some reason. Apparently, this Dave bloke is a good sort though, and Tel's already talking like they'll be keeping in touch when they all return to these sunny shores.
He never makes friends when he's on holiday. Doesn't trust anything abroad usually. This could be a keeper........ |
Miss Slave has Chertsey and Addlestone coursing through her veins....grew up there when the M25 was being built.....an old school friend of hers is an ITFC regular, home and away, because he liked the Suffolk Punch badge! | |
| |
| The Warky League One Report: Doncaster Rovers (h) on 20:30 - Sep 15 with 969 views | Ftnfwest |
I keep meaning to give wild wave a go. Cider was the first thing I got drunk on all those decades ago and I’ve never really gone back to it. Had a couple of pints of manky old thatchers in Somerset a few years ago but that’s about it. |  | | |
| The Warky League One Report: Doncaster Rovers (h) on 07:10 - Sep 16 with 793 views | Warkystache |
| The Warky League One Report: Doncaster Rovers (h) on 20:30 - Sep 15 by Ftnfwest |
I keep meaning to give wild wave a go. Cider was the first thing I got drunk on all those decades ago and I’ve never really gone back to it. Had a couple of pints of manky old thatchers in Somerset a few years ago but that’s about it. |
It's good, possibly not as good as Aspalls draught, but very pleasing nonetheless. It's recommended with a curry (which I'm never sure Aspalls goes particularly well with) and they sell it in 330ml cans, so it's very quaffable.
I'm off the ale and lager, following a bout of gastric discomfort a few months ago, and find cider doesn't seem to affect me. It doesn't seem to affect me in bread, just real ale and lager. Weird. | |
| |
| |
By continuing to use the site, you agree to our use of cookies and to abide by our Terms and Conditions.
